


In The End

by Exsilvis



Category: The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
Genre: Crossover, Fiction, Jekyll and Hyde, Other, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 19:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1358542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exsilvis/pseuds/Exsilvis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking place in the 1800's England, Connor Sampson has been accused of murder. While he awaits his trial, he is sent to an old run-down gaol, where he thinks he is alone. Soon he begins to see and hear other mates in the old gaol, believing his sanity has left him . Before his trial comes, he must come to terms with his fate and brace himself for what awaits him in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The End

“Let me go! Please sir, I beg you! Have mercy-”  
“Shut up, you. Pleading won't get you anywhere.” a man said harshly. His voice was like stone; rough, hard, and plain. His cement hands gripped the pleading man's shoulders tightly, his fingers digging deep into his skin.  
“What did you say your name was again?” the man said, more of a demand than a question.  
“I didn't”  
“Tell” the man demanded  
The pleading man hesitated, fearing to answer the man “Connor Sampson, sir.”  
“Connor Sampson,” the man repeated. He walked in front of Connor and glanced down at his shackles, then looked at him straight in the eye.  
“I love my job. I get to send people like you to Hell on Earth. I watch them slowly decay, every bit of their soul rotting away. They go mad, imprisoned in their own misery.”  
Connor stood there silently, his words and thoughts stuck in his throat. His blonde hair slightly ruffled due to the gentle breeze.  
The man leaned closer to Connor until his mouth was at his forehead. He slowly opened his dry, peeling lips and very silently whispered, “murderer”.  
Murderer. The word repeated in Connor's head over and over, like an echo bouncing from wall to wall, unable to die down.  
“Did you enjoy it? Did you love the feeling of independence, the freedom, the bitter-sweetness of it?” the man taunted.  
Scattered images ran through Connor's head like a movie on fast forward. Feelings running through his body all at once, confusing him. The feeling of hate, pleasure, relief, fear, all coming back.  
He heard someone talking, but it sounded distant and muffled, making it impossible to detect what was being said. The voice came closer and sounded clearer, but was still slightly unrecognisable.  
“Oi! Mr Drifty! You still here?”  
Connor snapped out of his trance and back to reality, forgetting that the man was still standing in front of him. He shuddered, then pushed his thoughts out of his head. The man now had a sneer and a hint of annoyance on his face.  
“You will enjoy yourself here,” he said, and pointed towards a building. It was old and rundown, with a field of stones surrounding it, showing absolutely no signs of life. Everything, including the stone-field, seemed dead. The building was like a child's playhouse covered with neglect and carelessness, which was a deeply sorrowful sight.  
The man walked behind Connor and shoved him forward. “Walk” he demanded.  
Connor took a step forward and stopped. The taste of the salty air burned his tounge and his nose. His famished stomach grumbled, and sweat stains were becoming visible on his collar shirt. Trickles of sweat worked their way down to his jaw, his eyes blurred and his knees were so close to giving in. He felt overheated, as if he had been running for miles straight. He blinked rapidly, trying to make the blur disappear. He could not bear to take one more step, so his knees finally caved in and landed on the stony ground with a light thud yet, it was painful enough to make him wince. His eyes watered, but he could not blink.  
Murderer, a voice repeatedly whispered in his mind, was all he could hear before his eyes failed and surrendered.  
***  
A strong scent of rot and urine filled Connor's nostrils, making him twist his face in disgust. The smell of decay and moss filled his lungs, and his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness that sorrounded him. He found himself lying on what seemed like a bed of straw. He attempted to get up, but got a head rush so he sat down as quickly as he got up. His whole body ached, especially his bruised knees. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and attempted to get up a few seconds later. Once again he got a head rush, so he gripped the edge of the bed to sustain his balance.  
“Dammit.” he said, rubbing his throbbing forehead  
“Good evening, Sleeping Beauty.” said a familiar voice mockingly.  
“Where am I...?” said Connor exhaustedly  
The distant voice laughed, then the laugh turned into footsteps walking away. There was a faint sound of a door clicking shut and keys locking it.  
“Prick” Connor said, annoyed. He looked around, and found himself in a small, dull cell, nearly eighteen feet and six inches square. The cell was squalid and had nothing except for a bed and a bucket. The bars that separated the room from the hall were rusted and old. Connor exhaled and sat on the filthy ground. Everything around him seemed silent and empty, like he was the only existent being cornered by darkness.  
“Oi! You! Stop sulking and get up.”  
Connor jumped, completely startled , and slowly backed away.  
“Don't worry, I won't bite.” said the voice jokingly  
Connor cautiously got up and approached the rusty bars of his cell and wrapped his fingers around them.  
“Who are you?” Connor demanded  
A shadow approached the bars of its cell but Connor could not make out who it was.  
“I am Arthur Hoffings, at your service.” he said. The shadow appeared to be bowing, but the poor lighting kept Connor from seeing properly.  
“Connor Sampson.” he said in return  
“And you're in a gaol, mate.” Arthur said  
“Why are you in here?” Connor asked  
“Awaiting trial, like everyone else in here.” he replied  
“Everyone?” Connor said, confused.  
Suddenly, the shadows of people emerged from the dark corners of the cells that appeared to be empty. They were all shapes and sizes, even Connor could tell in almost complete darkness.  
“Mum, I don't like it here. I scared.” said the voice of a small girl  
“Annabelle, it's all right, love. We'll be all right.” replied the voice of who seemed to be the mother of the girl.  
The voices of people were everywhere, talking at the same time, over one another. It was loud, crowded, and started to give Connor a headache. The voices of people trying to comfort, to yell in anger and frustration, to sob and pray, coming from all directions of every cell. Connor backed away, feeling terrified. It gave him a huge feeling of pity. Not just for himself, but for them also.  
All the noise slowly died down eventually, and Connor approached the bars once again.  
“Traitors, murderers, thieves... All of them paying the price of temptation. Their choices brought them here, not the choices of others.” Arthur paused, looking thoughtful for a moment and then asked, “Wha'bout you? What have you done to end up here?”  
Connor looked straight at Arthur and said faintly, “murder.”  
“I was like you.” said an unfamiliar voice.  
Connor glanced towards the direction where the voice came from.  
“Hence it came about that I concealed my pleasures, and it was as an ordinary secret sinner that I at last fell before the assaults of temptations.” it continued. The voice had a hint of sadness to it, as if with every word he spoke, it was like a memory of a distant past that he did not want to remember. It was painful to speak and with every breath he took it felt like he was slowly dying.  
“That's old Dr. Henry Jekyll over there. Don't mind him, he's a bit mad if you ask me.” Arthur said in a loud whisper. After a brief moment of silence, Connor glanced towards Jekyll's cell, but it was now silent.  
“Do you regret it? What you did to get yourself here, I mean.” Connor asked, getting slightly tired.  
“Me? Naw. I don't have regrets.” Arthur replied.  
“But you must certaintly have some. Any mistakes you wish you didnt do?”  
Arthur took a long pause. “No. Because what I learned during my time here is that no matter how many times you wish your mistakes could be erased, they won't. What's done is done, and you will have to learn from your regrets and mistakes before the end, even if your ending doesn't end well. You must learn to forgive yourself first in order for others to forgive you. If it wasn't for my wrong doings, I wouldn't learn how to be a better person.”  
Connor stood there, deep in thought and absorbing all of Arthur's words. His knees started to feel weak, so he stalked over to the soggy bed and lied down. He rubbed his eyes and placed his hands on the top of his stained waist coat, which now smelled heavily of sweat and moss. He starred at the mossy ceiling and chipped paint on the walls.  
“The promise of redemption,”Arthur whispered, “is not always as promising as you think. It has its consequences eventually.”  
Connor's mind wandered and strayed way from reality. He felt exhausted, and was about to sleep. But there was one thing still on his mind.  
“Why are you here?” Connor said out loud.  
No reply. Everything was silent now, so Connor decided not to bother Arthur with any more questions. He closed his eyes and drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.  
***  
Connor opened his eyes and looked around the cell. He heard the distant sound of footsteps coming his way but he didn't bother to get up.  
“Good news, it's your day today.” said a strange voice. Connor lifted his head and glanced at the security man standing outside his cell. He unlocked the cell and swung open the rotting bars with an ear-piercing screech. Connor got up as the man cuffed him in iron shackles. The metal scratched Connor's wrists and left rings of blood all around his wrists.  
“You've had all night to think 'bout your doings. Now we'll have to leave it to the law.”  
“It was my choice.” Connor whispered quietly  
“What?” the man asked  
“Nothing.” Connor looked around the gaol and found it completely empty. No signs of anyone ever being there.  
Perhaps they were already sent to trial. God rest their souls, he thought.  
He walked out and the sun shone brightly in his eyes. He felt relieved, as if all of his problems were no longer on his shoulders. Now he had to leave it all to the choices of others.  
***  
“Connor Sampson, found guilty of murder, and sentenced to hang until dead. Do you confess?”  
“I do” Connor said flatly.  
“God will save you and forgive you.”  
He closed his eyes as a rope was being placed around his neck.  
“He spent the whole night in an empty gaol. That is enough punishment, if you ask me.” said the man who arrived at Connor's cell that morning.  
“No one to bother him, that is.” said another.  
Connor took a step forward and took a deep breath. “I forgive.” he said  
Then he jumped.

**Author's Note:**

> One of the things that I like the most about this story is that there are various possibilities of what happened in that jail. Was he driven mad and just seeing things? Was he imagining everything? Was it all a dream? I like to leave things to the imagination. Hope you enjoyed it :)


End file.
